


Who You Gonna Call?

by originally



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: Ghosts, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originally/pseuds/originally
Summary: Nicholas and Danny get called to some weird goings on at Sandford Castle.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carolinecrane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/gifts).



> Happy Halloween, carolinecrane :)

Late October in Sandford meant two things to Nicholas Angel: it was starting to get bloody dark bloody early, and the local hoodies were starting to play Russian finger roulette with dodgy fireworks they’d bought from Dave “the Rave” in his transit van parked halfway up the Buford Road. There was still almost a week to go until Bonfire Night but he was already tired of hearing constant rockets, Catherine wheels, and the kind of booming explosion that rattled all the windows in the village and wouldn’t have sounded out of place in a war zone.

“Kids are starting late today,” Danny observed from the passenger seat. “It’s already gone five.”

Late October apparently meant something very different to Danny Butterman. For the last few days, he had been trying to convince Nicholas to watch what he referred to as ‘Halloween classics’, culminating in yesterday’s locker room outburst of, “Seriously, Nicholas, you’ve never seen  _Ghostbusters_?”. That had led to two hours of mockery from the Andes in the pub, followed by Danny practically dragging Nicholas home with him to sit on the sofa with a four pack of Stella, a tub of Butterkist, and Bill Murray in a boiler suit. A warm, cosy kind of feeling glowed in Nicholas’s chest at the thought of it, but he put that down to Danny’s habit of putting the car’s heating on full blast.

Just then, the Airwave lit up and Tony’s voice came through, tinny through the static. “Inspector Angel? We’ve had reports of strange noises up at the castle.”

“Roger,” Nicholas said. He’d become used to Sandford nick’s lax radio procedure over the last couple of years, though it still made him twitch now and then. “Did they say anything else? Over.”

“Oh yes,” Tony said. “He said ‘tell Angel to get his ginger arse over here and arrest these bastard kids before I do them an injury myself’. Over.”

Nicholas looked very hard at a small chip in the corner of the windscreen and internally counted to ten. He daren’t turn his head to see Danny’s expression.

“Roger,” he said, in what he hoped was a withering tone. “Sierra Alpha One out.”

The radio fell silent without a sign-off. Nicholas sighed quietly and started the engine. For a moment or two, no one spoke.

“Oh my god,” Danny said suddenly. “I hope it’s not the bloody swan again.”

 

*

 

It didn’t seem to be the swan again.

Mr Staker met them at the gate, giving no indication that he knew that Nicholas knew he had said anything impolite about his hair. Nicholas gave him his best bland police expression and asked him what the trouble was.

“Those bloody hoodies are getting in somehow and making a load of noise. Banging pipes and dropping things on the floor and all kinds of nonsense.”

“What makes you think it’s, er, young people?” Nicholas said. He stood with his pencil poised above his notebook like he was Simon Rattle in front of an orchestra, only with more sensible hair.

“Well, it’s hardly likely to be the blue rinse brigade, is it?”

Nicholas, who had some rather traumatic memories of exactly how much damage old ladies could do when they set their mind to it, nodded in a non-comital sort of way and said, “So, you haven’t witnessed anyone trespassing or breaking into the property?”

“I haven’t seen them but I’ve seen the mess they leave. Broken vases everywhere, and some of those were quite valuable. I took them up to  _Antiques Roadshow_  that time when it was at Buford Abbey, you know—”

“And you’re sure this damage wasn’t accidental?” Nicholas interjected.

Danny had been gazing around at the foreboding walls of the castle. “Maybe it’s ghosts,” he said, and then laughed nervously. “Or not. No such thing, is there? That would be daft. Ghosts! Only an idiot would believe in those.” Even in the twilight, Nicholas could see the way his cheeks had flushed pink.

Nicholas cleared his throat and said to Mr Staker, “Do you mind if we have a look around?”

 

*

 

Nicholas pushed open the heavy castle door cautiously. It wasn’t that he was worried about ghosts, obviously. The caution was standard for entering an unfamiliar, potentially dangerous environment, and definitely nothing to do with the creepy way the windows looked in the darkness or the creak of the door as it swung open.

He flicked the light on, because he wasn’t in the habit of creeping around corridors in the dark like people always seemed to in the cop movies Danny liked to watch. There weren’t any obvious broken windows or any other signs of a break-in, but he thought they might as well check it out and then head back to the station in time for the pub. At least that was better than sitting in the car being slowly driven to distraction by kids with fireworks. There were several doors leading off from the entrance hall and Nicholas selected one at random to open, motioning to Danny to take one of the others. Danny gulped audibly but pushed open his door without complaint. Nicholas smiled slightly to himself and strode forth into the corridor.

It was dimmer here, the energy saving bulbs not yet properly warmed up and throwing eerie shadows into the corners and making shapes dance and twist at the windows. Nicholas unclipped his torch from his duty belt, though doing so made him feel a bit of a wally so he left it switched off. Everything was quiet, apart from the muffled pops of rockets back in the village proper. He was just about to head back and check the other corridor when there was a flash of movement up ahead.

“Hello?” he called out. “Sandford Police. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

He caught sight of a hooded figure just as it disappeared around the corner and he quickened his pace. However, when he reached the spot the figure had been, he turned to follow it and nearly brained himself on the large, mahogany armoire that was standing against the wall. He looked around wildly but there was nowhere for the figure to have gone. Swearing to himself, he flicked on his torch and shone it into the corners; there was nothing there but solid wall, made of stone and cold to the touch when he ran his fingers over it.

Suddenly, a loud bang from another part of the castle made him jump.

“Danny!” he shouted, running in the direction the noise had come from.

He raced down another corridor lined with stern-looking portraits and through a narrow, twisting passage where his footsteps echoed strangely. As he turned a corner, an unseen force grabbed his torch and flung it at the far wall, where it shattered in a shower of black plastic and safety glass. The lights flickered off, plunging him into darkness. There was mad, cackling laughter, and a voice said, right in his ear, “G’woam!”

Snarling, Nicholas whirled around but there was no one there. He caught the flicker of a torch beam somewhere to his left, and he followed it down a flight of stone steps into a basement room. There were chains set into the floor and dampness on the walls and a dark stain in the corner that Nicholas really didn’t want to look at too closely.

“Danny?” he called, turning to head back up the stairs, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Danny standing three inches behind him.

“Nicholas,” Danny said slowly, seemingly ignorant of Nicholas’s sudden adrenaline spike, “is this the dungeon?”

Before Nicholas could reply, the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.

“Fuck,” Nicholas said, dashing back up and pulling at the door handle. “It won’t open. Radio control and tell them someone’s playing silly beggars. There’s someone here. I saw them.”

Behind him, he heard Danny’s Airwave crackle into life with a rush of garbled words and then fall suddenly silent.

“Um,” Danny said, in a tone of voice that made Nicholas’s heart sink.

“Christ, what now?”

“Radio’s buggered,” Danny said. “Won’t turn on.”

“Didn’t you charge it in the car?” Nicholas snapped, and regretted it at the wounded look on Danny’s face.

“Of course I did. I’m not an idiot. There’s something weird going on here.”

“Mr Staker!” Nicholas shouted. “Mr Staker, can you hear me?” 

There was no response apart from more of the cackling laughter.

"Oh god," Danny moaned. "I should have listened when that guy from Hereford was talking about the weird shit he'd seen. I just thought he'd had a few too many pints!"

"What?" Nicholas said distractedly. He felt carefully around the edges of the door but there was no catch or any kind of give in it.

"At that do we went to," Danny continued. "You know, when you won that medal and you had to give that speech. I met this bloke who said he did a job with some flash bastard from London who worked for, like, the X-Files branch of the Met and he told him ghosts and fairies and whatnot were all real."

"They're not real. There's a perfectly rational explanation. And there's no X-Files branch of the Met," Nicholas said, firmly. He applied his shoulder to the door and pushed, wishing fervently for the nice, big, red key that was sitting in the car boot at this very moment and no use to anyone.

"Well, you should know, I suppose," Danny said. "Mind out. You're going to hurt yourself."

"It's not working."

"I'm sure someone will be along soon. They wouldn’t leave us here, would they? Would they?"

 

*

 

As it turned out, the response times of the Sandford force were questionable at best and probably in want of an investigation, or at least a sternly-worded memo. It had been three hours, and Nicholas wasn't sure how much longer the battery in Danny's torch was going to last. The dungeon was fucking freezing, miserable and damp, and there was only so much protection from the cold a stab vest gave you.

Danny sat on the ground against the wall, shivering and looking unhappy.

"Come here," Nicholas said roughly, reaching toward him. "No sense in wasting body heat. That's our most precious resource."

Even as he said it, it sounded stupid and pompous, but Danny didn’t hesitate, only shuffled closer until he was pressed all along Nicholas’s side. He was a solid, familiar presence, and if Nicholas closed his eyes, he could imagine they were back at home, shoulders pressed together on the sofa as they watched one of Danny's mindless action films. He let his hand fall to Danny's thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze. For a long moment, they sat in silence. Danny’s torch flickered and died.

"Nicholas," Danny murmured into the darkness. "Just in case the ghosts eat us, I want you to know that I was always grateful that a flash bastard from London came to stay."

Nicholas turned his head slightly to look at him. If he moved just a whisker, he could press a kiss to Danny's hair.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghost,” he said instead, and Danny smiled at him.

“I love it when you do movie quotes,” he said. “What do you think they want?”

“I don’t know.”

“A lot of bad shit went down at this castle,” Danny said. “Maybe they’ve got a right to break some pots and shout a bit. I’d probably be pissed off too if a bunch of nutters had murdered me to make the village look nicer.”

“True,” Nicholas said, and then, softly, “I’m glad they didn’t.” He reached for Danny’s hand, and Danny laced their fingers together, as tight as they would go.

 

*

 

No light penetrated down into the dungeon to show that it was morning, but Nicholas's internal clock told him it was time to wake up.

That, and the banging noises coming from outside.

"We're in here!" he shouted, dislodging a sleepy Danny from his shoulder and trying not to think too hard about why he felt the loss of Danny’s warm weight like a physical pain.

There was a crash and a splintering noise before Tony and both Andes burst through the door with big, red key in hand, followed at a more sedate pace by Doris. Daylight flooded in from upstairs, illuminating Danny and him in a way Nicholas wasn’t sure he was comfortable with. He saw one of the Andes raking his eyes over them both and quickly got to his feet.

“Are you alright, Inspector Angel?” Tony said anxiously. “We came as soon as you didn’t answer the welfare check, but there was… well, it was…”

“Weird shit,” said the other Andy darkly, and Nicholas nodded.

“We’ll, er, debrief back at the station.”

Doris let out a titter. “I always like a nice debriefing. It’s a bit _Fifty Shades_ in here, isn’t it?” she said, gesturing around the room.

“More like _Poltergeist_ ,” Danny muttered as he stood up.

Nicholas chivvied the others back up the stairs, already thinking about how he was going to sort out the mess, Mr Staker, and what was guaranteed to be an absolute mountain of paperwork. He took a moment to glance back at Danny.

“You okay?” he asked.

Danny gave him a small smile, the kind that sent warmth flooding to the tips of Nicholas’s fingers. “I’ll live,” he said, hand brushing Nicholas’s arm as he passed.

As Nicholas watched him disappear back up into the castle, he found he was looking forward to the next movie night very, very much.


End file.
